


Appearances

by Gildaurel



Category: LACKEY Mercedes - Works, Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 03:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gildaurel/pseuds/Gildaurel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Breda is not pleased when she finds out that Vanyel is with her teenage protege and confronts him. Based off a fic by typhe (hope that's okay!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appearances

            Vanyel glanced at the note a second time, wondering whether he was reading a caustic tone into it or if Breda was, in fact, angry with him. _And if so, I can only guess as to why. Although how she found out is beyond me. Unless…_ Stefen’s wagging tone had come as something of a surprise to him; he’d always assumed his lover’s political astuteness and general maturity extended to all parts of his life. It was only after the brief hint of Stefen-as-hopeless-gossip he’d noted at Jisa’s wedding announcement and from Medren’s more recent warnings that he’d begun to fear for their relationship’s secrecy. _Not that I want to_ hide _him, but Stefen is all too unaware of how some people might view us from the outside—and that’s the ones who_ aren’t _chanting prayers for my salvation every time they hear the word_ shaych _. Fact is, I can hardly think of a single friend who will understand why I’ve chosen a teenager to share my long-cold bed with._ He sighed and read it a third time:

_Vanyel._

_Come by tonight after court. We have some things to discuss. Alone._

_\--Breda_

            A hint of a smile twitched his lips; only Breda would actually _order_ him to see her. _Breda and Savil. But Savil never has to; I can anticipate her peevish moments._ The door creaked open and he set the note down.

            “Van?” Stefen asked, a bit shyly, peeking his head through the door. “Can I come in?”

_I hate that I still intimidate him._ At Forst Reach, Stefen had been almost dominant in their couple, charming his parents and essentially wooing him without a second thought of Vanyel the all-powerful Herald-Mage. Once back at Haven, however, the dynamic had shifted; Stef seemed to notice more than ever that all eyes were always on Vanyel, and that he was the acting ruler in all but name. _Of course, I haven’t always helped matters._

            “Please, Stef,” Vanyel said gently, and the Bard slipped through the crack in the door, shutting it behind him. They’d said they would make time for each other tonight, even though Vanyel had late Council and Stefen had a new song he was working on for the Rethwellan delegation coming in next week.

            “How was the meeting?” Stefen asked, laying his gittern gently against the door.

            _He must have been hoping to try out some chords on me._ “Long, but effective. They accepted the new requirements for Trainee education.” He paused and picked up the note. “This, however, was a surprise.” Holding it out to Stefen, he shrugged into his cloak. “I suppose you’ll have to wait up for me tonight.”

            Stefen’s forehead creased as he read through it once, then twice. A moment passed before he met Vanyel’s eyes. “Ah,” was all he said, but there was more anxiety than surprise written on his features.

            “Can I hazard a guess as to what this might be about, or would you know better than I?” Vanyel asked, a hint of reproach in his voice. _I love you, ashke, but I am_ not _a public person and I do_ not _air my dirty laundry in public. Even to Breda._

            “I might have an idea,” Stefen said hesitantly. Slumping his shoulders a bit, he handed the note back to Vanyel. “I… mentioned something about us to her.”

            Too tired to fight, Vanyel simply nodded and tied the cloak strings tightly about his neck. “Looks like I’ll be taking a trip out to Bardic, then.”

            “Vanyel…”

            “It’s all right, _ashke_. I’m not happy about it, and I certainly wish you could be more discrete, but then you wouldn’t be you.” Stopping to brush a kiss across Stefen’s lips, he shrugged. “And I suppose I even love it about you, even though I hate when the rumor shared concerns _me._ ” He opened the door, paused, and turned around. “I’ve rung for dinner for you—eat without me. The gods only know when Breda will finish chewing me out.”

            “If it’s any comfort, she wasn’t pleased with me either,” Stefen said, his face lifting a bit. “And thank you for not being angry with me.”

            “I learned not to fight nature a long time ago, love.” Throwing his cloak over his shoulder, he favored his lover with a brief smile before closing the door. _How can I be mad at him, anyways? It’s only my own guilt taking form. Of course Breda would find out, and of course it’s best she found out from the horse’s mouth._ His thoughts darkening, he let himself out into the Palace gardens and the shortcut to Bardic. _And it’s no wonder she’s caustic—Stefen must have told me dozens of times over that Breda was, in essence, his surrogate mother. How would I feel if Jisa had taken up with, say, Tran?_ He shuddered physically, feeling both disgusted at the idea and with himself. _I did_ try _to resist, didn’t I?_ But even that thought was only a mild comfort— _I was attracted to him regardless. Is wanting to commit a crime any different from actually committing one? Gods, I’m too tired to think in circles about morality tonight._

The garden door to Breda’s chambers seemed to yawn out of the darkness like the entry to an ancient cave, foreboding and shadowed. He hesitated before entering— _what am I, afraid? Almost forty years old, and still worried about what the Head of Bardic thinks of me?_ Shaking his head, he knocked firmly on the door.

            “Come in,” Breda’s low, gravelly voice greeted him.

            Swiftly, he entered and shut the door behind him. A scene that would have been humorous under any other circumstances greeted him: Breda, a bottle of whisky and a short glass in front of her, strumming absent-mindedly on a gittern.

            “Sit down,” she said, gesturing vaguely. Clearing off a short stool that was covered with various papers—rosters of Trainees, it looked like—he did as ordered.

            A moment passed before she spoke. “This was Stefen’s old gittern,” she said as she set down the battered instrument next to her. “His first, actually. I lent it to him not long after he got here.” She shook her head. “He couldn’t play a thing, you know. Singing was it. But I came to see him a month later, and he played me an original song.” Cocking her head, she finally looked at Vanyel. “You must know all about that, though, no?”

            Vanyel shook his head. “No,” he murmured. “He… hasn’t spoken much about that time.”

            “Oh?” she quirked an eyebrow in an oh-so-pissed-off-Breda way. “Has he said much of anything, or has he been too busy sucking your Heroic cock to get a word in?”  
             Vanyel blanched. “Breda—“ he started.

            “No, Van, no. No excuses. Although I’m not sure what sort of excuses you hoped to come up with—Oh, Breda, sorry about sleeping with your _teenage ward_ , but I’ve always loved Bards.” She was getting animated now, her face reddening with repressed emotion. “Or is it that you feel you’ve been celibate so long you _deserved_ a little break? And there was Stef, all wide eyes and admiring glances, _shaych_ as the sun is bright, like a little gift from the Gods? Maybe you’ve even convinced yourself he _was_ one.” Pouring herself another glass of whisky with a shaking hand, she downed it in a single gulp. “Van, he’s a _child_. He’s barely older than Jisa and he’s younger than your nephew! I have no illusions about his total innocence, but I do know he’s one hell of a lot less cynical and scarred—mentally or physically—than you are. Whatever this midlife crisis you’re having is, stay away from my ward. Twenty years is no sort of age gap for a real relationship.”

            “Breda,” he began again, holding up a hand when she made to interrupt. “Please. I’m about to make one of my rare speeches.” He took a deep breath. “Every word you’re saying is a dagger to my soul. If you think I haven’t already thought long and hard about every point you’ve made, than these last twenty years of _our_ relationship have been as naught. _Of course_ he’s too young. Gods, I won’t lie and say I wasn’t attracted, but I tried to keep him at arm’s length. I pushed him away so completely that I couldn’t even see my own feelings until he cornered me. But—“ he paused purposefully and looked deep into her eyes. “—we’re lifebonded.”

            She spit out her whisky. “You can’t expect me to believe that load of crap!”

            “Breda,” he said softly. “We’re lifebonded.”

            “No,” she whispered, her face ashen. “No, you can’t lifebond _twice_.”

            “Apparently you can,” he said, sighing. “I didn’t think so either, and even after I knew, I still wasn’t convinced I should acknowledge it. But not doing so is infinitely worse—not just for me, but for your ward as well.”

            “I…” Breda poured another glass and handed it to him, which he took gratefully. “I’m sorry. I suppose I said some things I’ll regret later, just now.”

            Stretching his shoulders and almost smiling, Vanyel sipped his glass. “Nothing I haven’t already thought about myself. I question every day whether being with me is good for Stef in any way, shape, or form.” Shrugging, he continued, “And usually I deem it is _not_ good for him. But if you saw how he was when I tried to turn him away…”

            “Denying a lifebond is never the better option,” Breda said, standing up from her chair rather unsteadily and fetching the water pitcher. “I understand now—why you would have done what you did. When Stefen told me, I didn’t know what to think! You’ve always been so circumspect… even when you first came to Haven, hiding your emotions, never seeming interested in anyone or anything. Tylendel—“ she hesitated and looked at him. He nodded for her to continue. “—well, nobody would even have known you were together, much less lifebonded. I never would have guessed, and I’m _good_ at knowing people. And since then—I’ve always held a high opinion of you, Van, but it’s hard to truly _know_ you. Or to know what you do when you’re not defending the Kingdom. Gods know I’ve never heard a whisper of a rumor, but it’s unnatural to be celibate for twenty years.”

            “Eight,” Vanyel corrected with a small smile.

            She rolled her eyes. “Still unnatural. So here I was, wondering if I never heard a whisper because what you were doing—well, you weren’t proud of it.”

            “Breda, it was exactly what it looked like— intentional celibacy. I don’t particularly enjoy sharing the details of my life with anyone. Lovers tend to want to know more than the average person, and I haven’t wanted that closeness with anyone since ‘Lendel. When Stefen came into my life… he overwhelmed me. You know what he’s like! He ran roughshod all over my carefully laid plans to remain eternally alone.”

            That earned him a small chuckle. “I don’t doubt. He is a force of nature.” She looked away. “I love him, Van. I won’t fight what you have, and I’m happy for you, but—“

            “You’re not sure it’s right for Stef,” he finished for her.

            “I know it’s better than him trying to deny it,” she said. “And I can sleep a little easier knowing _whose_ bed he’s in, for once.”

            Vanyel raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

            “Van, you can’t be entirely ignorant of the boy’s escapades,” she stated flatly.

            “No, but I prefer to remain somewhat in the dark,” he said.

            “That’s your choice, but don’t try to deny who he is. Stef is like that. He needs to taste and try everything—he’ll never be satisfied with you hiding your relationship, or with you leaving him here every time you take off on a mission. Which is what, about half the year?” She shook her head. “Sometimes the choices the Gods make confuse me. Two more different people…”

            “I need him,” Vanyel said softly. “And he, I think on some level, needs me.”

            “I know,” she replied. She looked upward. “Just… don’t go and die on us on one of these hair-brained tours of duties they send you on, Van. Please. I don’t want to pick up the pieces afterwards.”

            He favored her with a wry smile. “I’ll do my best.” Pausing, he studied her face for a second. “You forgive me, then?”

            “There’s nothing to forgive,” she said bluntly. “Actually, I’m growing more convinced by the minute that I’m the one who needs to beg your forgiveness. I _do_ trust you and know you, and you’ve never acted out of lust. I jumped to conclusions, and I was wrong.” She sighed. “I just wanted an easy life for him.”

            Looking away, Vanyel replied, “So did I, Breda. But—I won’t give him up.”

            “Are you living together?” she asked after a moment.

            “Yes,” he replied, taken aback. “Why?”

            “Good. I can do two visits at once. Now get out of here and go back to him.”

            He half-smiled and bowed mockingly to her. “As my Lady requests.”

            She snorted. “As if you’ve ever had any Lady but Yfandes. Go! Someone is waiting for you for once.”

            Taking Breda’s orders, Vanyel quickly exited, feeling a surge of warmth at the truth of her last statement: someone was, indeed, waiting up for him.


End file.
